


All the King's Men

by alienss



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - No One Ring, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Baggage, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fell Winter, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Description, M/M, Thorin actually has a sense of direction, Wolves, gotta work for it though, not too graphic though, well more like the one ring is not an issue for this story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:42:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26203630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienss/pseuds/alienss
Summary: During the Fell Winter, Bilbo looses his parents in the most horrific way possible. He grows up with a new guardian, learning to get used to how much his life has changed. Years later, a certain wizard convinces him to accompany a group of dwarrow, lead by Thorin Oakenshield, on a quest to take back their homeland from one of the last great evils of the world.
Relationships: Belladonna Took/Original Male Character(s), Bilbo Baggins & Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Bungo Baggins/Belladonna Took, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 9
Kudos: 26





	All the King's Men

Winter in the Shire that year started like any other; a chilly wind set in from the north, blowing the smell of snow like a promise through the air. The stubborn multi-colored leaves that clung to trees in autumn now littered the ground in a brown carpet. Hobbits began donning their coats and scarves when traveling to the marketplace or visiting relatives. Fauntlings with glowing noses were corralled inside earlier and earlier by their mothers for hot chocolate and pastries. So when the first snow did fall, many simply hunkered down with a good book and a warm cup of tea to wait it out.

  
Bilbo Baggins lived in a large smial found on the highest hill overlooking all of Hobbiton. He always had a penchant for reading books of great adventures and far-away kingdoms, partially due to his mother's influence. Though he was already a tween, and others his age had lost their sense of wanderlust, he was still fascinated by his mother's stories. She weaved tales of her adventures like a seamstress; from journeying with a wizard across Middle Earth to meeting elvish lords to fighting alongside mighty dwarves. Many though, like winning a riddle game against a foul creature and finding a magical ring, he suspected were embellished. Still, he believed if any hobbit could accomplish such feats, it would be her. 

  
At first glance, she was as normal as any other hobbit mother with her round, warm smiling face, long curly black hair, and a flowing cotton dress, embroidered with clovers along the hem. If you were around her long enough though, you might start to notice her unusual dinner manners or the Elvish knife she always carried or her ability to sense a fight brewing in seconds. True, she was not the most popular hobbit, and provided a never-ending source of gossip, but her family's approval was all she needed. The night after the first snowfall of the season she was excitedly telling one of her stories while baking Bilbo's favorite rhubarb pie. 

  
"Then Bror swung her axe with such force it went straight through the orc about to stab Aldair! After the fight, she grabbed Aldair's hand and told him she couldn't stand the thought of losing him. She asked to court him right there on the battlefield! Of course we all knew the answer would be yes. It was obvious they liked each just halfway through the journey! I even placed a few bets-" she cleared her throat suddenly.

"Anyway, they agreed to court, we continued on through the rest of the forest, and finally made it to the edge of the Brown Lands. After the whole thing was over, their marriage was quite the event! Most of their families refused to attend though, saying they wouldn't acknowledge a dwarf and elf couple. Can you believe it! After all we'd been through and they still let such an insignificant thing matter. We didn't let them notice such an absence anyway. Oh, you should have see Gandalf after a few dwarvish ales!" She laughed while rolling the dough and looked up to see Bilbo at the table staring intently at his teacup. "If you stare at the tea any harder you might just see the future." she joked.

  
He looked back up at her with a sheepish smile. "Oh, sorry, I was paying attention. Its just, if Bror and Aldair were in love the whole time, and it was so obvious to the rest of you, why didn't they say anything to each other before then? Surely on such a dangerous journey they'd want to make their feelings known."

Belladonna smiled wryly as she pulled out a pie dish to shape the dough. "Well maybe you should take your own advice and go tell that Proudfoot lad how you feel then, hm? Should be easy with your confidence."

Bilbo's face suddenly became bright red. He stuttered incomprehensibly before muttering, "I see your point..." He propped his face in his hands and sighed trying to regain some composure. "Your courtship with dad was so easy though! I'm not sure I'll ever get the hang of relationships." 

  
Belladonna shook her head, about to reprove the idea when a chuckle came from the sitting room and a voice called out, "What sort of lies have you been telling him? Your mother was harder to impress than the Sackvilles!"

At that point a smiling Bungo Baggins joined them in the kitchen, an empty tea cup in hand and a book under his arm. He sat the book down on the table before heading towards the stove and continuing. "The first time I saw her, she had just arrived back in the Shire after traveling half-way across the world. There, coming up the road on a pony, with a giant sword strapped to her waist, hair braided with dozens of beads, and clothes covered in mud, was the most beautiful hobbit I'd ever seen. All thoughts of respectability left my head and in that moment, I knew there was no other for me." 

  
Belladonna cast a fond glance over at her husband as she went to collect some rhubarb from the pantry. Bungo grabbed the teapot off the stove and poured himself another cup before setting down next to Bilbo and continuing. "But, actually getting her to notice me was a whole other story! I stayed up for days writing a poem to confess my feelings, but when I gave it to her, she said it was not nearly as good as some Elvish poem she'd read and tried to give me advice on how to improve it!"

An indignant huff sounded from the pantry followed by a few words of Sindarin. Bilbo hid a laugh behind his hand while his father blushed slightly and developed a petulant look. "Well, I do suppose I could have told you of my intentions directly, but why else would someone give you poetry?" He took another sip of tea to hide his face as Belladonna emerged from the pantry with a little basket of rhubarb.

"Elves will write poetry for all sorts of reasons, dear. Why, many of the elves in Rivendell gave me poems to express gratitude or commemorate our friendship. And I'll have you know, I was popular as a proofreader!" She grabbed a knife from the drawer and started to cut the stems from the roots. "You could hardly blame me for thinking it was something similar."

  
Bungo raised his eyebrows in contradiction but still smiled as he replied, "Oh yes, a line like 'Your gaze has caused a tulip to bloom in my chest' was not forward enough. But the forget-me-nots bouquet I gave you afterwards should have grabbed your attention! I was humiliated when you suddenly smacked it away."

Belladonna paused in her slicing and waggled the knife towards him. "I've told you before, there is a very similar flower in the east that was quite toxic. One of our party got very sick from it and we all learned to avoid it. My mind was still in the wilderness since I had just returned... Many things were difficult to adjust to after my journey." A solemn air filled the room at the tone of her last statement and she tucked her braid back behind her ear. After a second, she returned to cutting the stalks in a more subdued manner.

  
Bilbo had always tried to avoid asking too much about certain parts of his mother's stories. When he was still a faunt, he had once pestered her too much about the end of the journey and caused his mother to cry. She had tried to reassure him it was not his fault, that she was okay, but he knew it wasn't true. It had taken days before she was back to herself again. Since that time, he'd always thought there was something she left out of her tales. Something that caused her to stare out the windows with a look of longing and loss. In those moments, all they could do was try to comfort her. He met his fathers eyes briefly and saw them full of anguish. He turned back to his tea and tried to think of some way to lighten the mood.

"Well maybe in the spring I should try to confess to Renol the same way dad confessed to you. Only, I hope my results are a bit fairer." They both seemed to welcome the change in subject as they laughed a bit too loudly at his proclamation. His cheeks reddened again and his father put a hand on his shoulder.

"You are more well read than I was at your age so perhaps you can find a better way to make an impression. I think you're still too young for something as serious as forget-me-nots though. Wouldn't want you to get caught 'picking berries' before you're of age." He shot a quick wink at his son.

If Bilbo was red before, he was practically a tomato now. He hid his face in his hands and let them tease him a little longer; he enjoyed their laughter even if it was at his own expense. In the weeks to come, he would wish for it more and more. 

~~~~

  
The first snow had not yet melted when a second storm hit, covering the Shire and its surrounding communities in light drifts and blocking the entryways of smaller smials. Some even had to be dug out of their homes , but everyone concluded the situation was normal for the season. Fauntlings still had snowball fights in the barren fields and the local gossips spread news of the latest scandal to every passing ear. The real issues started a week later when a third storm hit. It was a true blizzard; howling, biting wind, hail that broke windows and left bruises, and drifts large enough to completely bury every smial in Hobbiton.

  
The hinges on the front door of Bag End had frozen, and the windows were covered by snow. The darkness did little to fight off the chill that set in, but Bilbo and his parents still tried to make the most of the situation. For the first week, they did all they could to keep each other from becoming bored; they played games, read aloud stories, and once even listed the many uses of snow in cooking. But as the days crept on, boredom was replaced by worry. Unsure of how long their firewood would last, they moved all their blankets and pillows into the sitting room to reduce the area they needed to heat. They kept the fireplace well stoked and began cooking over it instead of in the kitchen. Belladonna tried to convince Bilbo it was like camping, but he found little joy in the harshly cooked meals and empty ceiling. When their firewood ran out a week later, his parents began using furniture from the spare bedrooms for kindling.

After nearly a month of dark and dismal conditions, a new problem appeared: food. Their pantry was becoming sparse; seven meals a day was reduced to three, and then two, then one. Hunger, so unfamiliar before, became an ever present pain in Bilbo's stomach. He felt hollow and weak; sometimes he didn't have the energy to get up from his makeshift bed. On those days, he drifted in and out of sleep with no real reason to stay awake. At some point, a few days after he suspected his parents had starting giving him their shares of food, he awoke to frantic whispering.

  
"We cannot stay here Bungo! We barely have enough food to last a few days at this rate. We have to dig our way out one of the windows and travel to my father's home in Tuckburough. I know he will have enough supplies to last us through this winter." His mother's voice had never sounded so desperate and a wave of anxiety hit at the urgency.

"We would never make it all the way there in this weather! I'm sure the snow will melt soon..." His father wavered slightly, like he was trying hard to convince himself of an idea he didn't believe.

"Besides I have been hearing strange noises outside... the sound of scrapping and unhobbit-like footsteps. I fear there may be wild animals lurking about... trying to find a way in. We'll be safer if we stay here and wait for help. The rangers surely know about our predicament. Why they're probably-"

"AFTER EVERYTHING I'VE BEEN THROUGH, I WILL NOT JUST SIT HERE, WAITING FOR HELP, WHILE WE STARVE TO DEATH! IF YOU REFUSE TO LEAVE THEN I'LL TAKE BILBO AND GO WITHOUT YOU!" Bilbo flinched as his mother shouted.

Bilbo slowly sat up, feeling uncomfortable with eavesdropping any further. His parents both froze at his movement before Belladonna turned to him. Her face was more gaunt and tired than he last remembered, the bags under her eyes a dark shade of purple and sallow skin furrowed at her brow. Did he look like that too?

"I'm sorry, honey, I didn't mean to wake you." she sighed in exasperation. "Please go back to sleep." He felt annoyance well up at her dismissal. Did they think him still so young that his opinion shouldn't be considered, or that he couldn't understand what was going on?

"We should go." he found himself spitting out. A stretch of silence followed before he found the courage to speak again, more meekly this time.

"I-I'm afraid of going out there... but I'm also afraid of what may happen by staying here." He felt his mouth twist at the admission and struggled not to cry while looking at his mother's feet. "I'm not as naive to what's going on as you might think. I don't want to watch you both starve for me."

The tears overwhelmed him and he furtively tried to wipe them away. His mother hurried over and dropped to the floor, hugging him close. He clung onto her like he hadn't done since he was a fauntling, sobbing into her chest after a bad fall in the garden. She ran one hand soothingly through his hair and the other in circles over his back.

She sounded like she was on the verge of crying as well as she whispered, "I'm sorry- I- I'm just so sorry Bilbo."

Bungo lingered a few steps away, watching them with a shameful face and tears in his eyes. "It would seem I'm outnumbered then." he mumbled and averted his eyes to the floor. "I guess we should go sooner rather than later. We'll need to pack the rest of the food, then make sure to dress in our thickest coats and decide which window will be sacrificed. I'd suggest the one in the store room that should have been replaced last year, though we could also use the one in the third guest bedroom. I'd rather not use the one in the study unless it's necessary but-"

He paused as Belladonna reached an arm into his blurry vision, keeping one still wrapped firmly around her son, and beckoned him to join them. Trembling, he stumbled over and latched onto her hand, letting her pull him down into the hug. Tears had started to fall in the middle of his ramble and he hid them in her shoulder. None wanting to move away from the embrace, hours seemed to pass as the family held each other. Finally, Bilbo's stomach growled to remind them of their situation.

  
When they sat back, all three had red eyes, puffy cheeks, and a new resolve. Bungo set about collecting what little food they had left, while Bilbo dug out their warmest clothes. Belladonna disappeared into the store room and when they all met back by the fireplace, she had a bundle of swords in her arms. "I'd hoped to never need these again..." she started, looking at the largest dusty sword in the pile fondly. "But if there are dangerous animals out there, we'll need to be prepared. I pray to Yavanna we won't have to use them." Bilbo grabbed one of the smaller swords and tried to lift it. The tip drooped near the floor from its weight and he wondered anxiously if he would even be able to use it, should the need arise.

  
When they'd finally dug themselves to the surface, their newfound energy was dampened by the biting air. Bilbo shivered against the wind but continued to trudge through the thick snow between his parents. He was glad they had managed to come out during the daytime; the chill would have been even worse otherwise and it would be impossible to see where they were going without attracting whatever was lurking around. Small mounds in the snow were the only indication of where smials lay on the landscape. The few visible trees were so laden the boughs threatened to break with every new gust. Their creaking was the only noise besides the hobbits' steps and it made Bilbo uneasy. 

Up ahead, he noticed several tracks in the snow coming from what he assumed was one of the smials. _They must have had the same idea,_ he thought.

He pointed them out to his parents but didn't speak for fear of breaking the silence. His mother nodded at him and when she unsheathed her sword so did he and Bungo. The tracks followed the same path they planned to take but after an hour they became erratic, like whoever had been walking stumbled and fell several times. A few minutes later they could see dark shapes in the road ahead. His mother gasped beside him once they got closer, and he tightened his grip on the sword at the scene.

  
Several bodies laid there, half covered by snow. One woman clutched two fauntlings to her chest, like she had been trying to shield them from the wind. Their clothes and hair looked stiff where it was visible. Their faces looked blueish yet serene, almost like they were sleeping. Bilbo felt the urge to cry at the idea but swallowed it. They turned away from the scene after saying a quick prayer and continued on towards Tuckburough. 

  
His limbs were becoming stiff with each new step as they neared the edge of Hobbiton. The thought of the other hobbit's calm faces, dead in the snow, kept him moving. No one is going to find us like that, he promised himself. At that moment, he was determined they would make it. They would find their way to his grandfather's big smial and be welcomed like they were expected all along. His aunts and uncles and cousins would be there and they'd have a big feast for dinner. Afterward they'd sit in the smoking room to laugh about how miserable the past few weeks had been and have a good bit of Longbottom leaf.

  
A howl pierced the silence bringing his thoughts and steps to an abrupt halt. Everyone was frozen for a moment, not daring to make a sound, but the next instant they were running. Bilbo had to focus on keeping his knees from buckling; his fear brought him new energy but his limbs were still frozen from the past few hours. He began to fall behind as they sprinted through the endless fields of snow. Another howl sounded on his left, much closer this time, and when he glanced over, fear shot through his stomach making him queasy. Four wolves emerged from over the hill and the largest, a solid white beast, spotted them. They looked bone thin and desperate even from where they stood several meters away. In his fear, he stumbled in the snow and fell. His sword was flung to the side and the wolves descended towards him. By the time he managed to lift his head out of the layers of snow, his parents were blocking him on each side from a circle of wolves. In that moment, sitting up in the snow, grasping for his sword while piercing yellow eyes bore into his, Bilbo thought, _We're going to die_. 

  
The fighting happened so quickly he barely had time to fumble for his sword before standing. Belladonna lunged at the closest wolf, slicing from its neck to its chest. It yelped and flinched back, blood pouring from its wound and staining the snow. In the next moment she was slicing its eyes, forcing it to stumble backwards and away from the fight blindly. Another wolf accosted her, but Bilbo's attention turned to Bungo. He'd tried feebly to imitate Belladonna with his little sword, but missed and the wolf had taken the opportunity to bite into his arm. His cry was punctuated by a crunch as the wolf yanked him from side to side trying to separate bone and flesh. Warm blood splattered onto Bilbo's face causing him to grip his sword tighter. He launched himself at the wolf with all his strength, burying his blade into the its grey flank. It released his father's arm and rounded, trying to lash out at him, but he jerked the sword out and it crumpled under the sudden pain. 

  
As it tried to recover its stance, Bilbo staggered forward with all his weight to stab it again, this time in the neck. The sword ground against its windpipe, and it went limp on the ground. His heart beat loudly in his chest making him feel dizzy and causing his hands to shake. He tried to pull the sword out a second time but his arms felt too weak. Abandoning it, he turned back to his father, now laying in the crimson stained snow, clutching his mangled arm. Bilbo could tell he was struggling to stay conscious and seized his good shoulder to shake him awake. Bungo's head lolled lamely to the side and his eyes fluttered.

"Dad, you you have to stay awake!" His tongue barely formed the words, too cold to move properly and his vision became blurry with tears.

"Don't go to sleep, its going to be okay, its-" His father's eyes drooped shut. He gripped his shoulder tighter and shook him roughly.

"No, no, no, NO!" He felt helpless, stuck staring at his fathers pale face, only able to cry like a child. Later, in the midst of recovery, he would scorn his inaction, arguing between the grief and guilt he felt for that moment.

Belladonna's cry broke him from his trance. He turned to see two of the wolves laying motionless in the snow, blood splatter surrounding them and the third, grasping his mother's neck in its mouth. She looked at him, eyes pleading him to run and tears flowing down her face as she struggled against the pain. A crack sounded and she dropped to the ground, motionless. Bilbo could only kneel there, petrified, staring at his mother's torn, limp body as the white wolf directed its attention to him. 

  
His mother's blood dripped from its parted mouth and matted the fur of its face in a horrible mask. He frantically scrambled up from his knees and began to run. He'd only managed a few steps before teeth latched onto his right leg and he fell. A guttural scream erupted from him and he dug his fingers helplessly in the snow as he was dragged back towards the carnage. He tried to kick his free leg at the creature but that only caused it to bite down harder and a new wave of pain flashed through him. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. Finally, the intensity became too much for him and he passed out.

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**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fanfiction! Feel free to tell me what you think about it and stick with me as I adjust to posting and editing here! I've been working on this for a little while now and wanted to post the first chapter to see what kind of reception it would get. Not sure how quickly I'll update but I don't plan to abandon this fic. Hope you like it and continue to stick with me!
> 
> EDIT (1/1/21): Hey just wanted to let anyone who has read this before to know that I've changed a few things about the story and updated them to go along with the direction I want to go. Its nothing major, but it may be worth another read through. I will have a new chapter out soon!


End file.
